Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 01 - A Deadly Change of Course--Plan B (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

T
he next few days proved to be completely relaxing and uneventful.  I communicated with Uncle Doug daily about the progress Peter Cunningham was making on the story.  He told me our chat-room witness had shown up, but that was all he knew.  Peter was not about to let out any information that could jeopardize the safety of the informant. 

I sat down on the sofa with a bowl of ice cream and turned on the ten o’clock news.  I only gave the broadcast half my attention, reserving the other half for the coffee almond crunch in my bowl.  Then, out of the blue, I heard a familiar name
—
Carl Hobson.  Dozens of reporters were hounding him as he tried to maneuver his way into his DC office.  I turne
d up the volume and set the half-
eaten bowl of ice cream on the coffee table.

“Mr. Hobson, how do you respond to the accusations that you deliberately and willfully caused the crash of Flight 9602 last year, killing everyone on board?” one of
the reporters grilled him,
then
jammed a microphone in his face.

“I have no statement at this time,” he coldly answered, then disappeared through his office doors.

The cameras returned to the commentators.  “There you have it, Joan.  That was CIA Director, Carl Hobson, who, earlier today, was accused of planning and carrying out an elaborate plan to assassinate two DEA agents on their return flight to the United States from Mexico last year.  As of yet, we don’t have all the details.  We’ve been trying to get a comment from the President, but he has not given us any statement.”

“Ted, any idea who would have directed Carl Hobson to perform such a barbaric act?
  Surely, he wouldn’t have been acting on his own.”

“As I said, Joan, we have no details, yet.  Apparently, a witness turned up with overwhelming evidence to support the accusations against Hobson.  There has also been some mention that Claude McCormick, the CEO for
GoldBank
, is somehow involved.  Again, Joan, this is all just speculation.  I’m sure things will clear up as we get more information.  For now, this is Ted Provost, reporting live from the CIA D
.
C
.
headquarters. 
Back to you, Joan.”

The last E-mail document from Hobson to
Kephart
flashed through my mind.  His determination to take down everyone he could possibly name if he were ever in this position replayed in my head.  I wondered how many names he had already sung out.

The next story brought a tear to my eye.  The camera crews were camped out on Amanda Powers’ front lawn, waiting to get an interview with her.  The cameras zoomed in a close-up shot on a little girl peeking out the window of the house.  The happy little face with the sparkling eyes I had seen just days before was now streaked with tears.

Finally, Martha Powers came to the door and offered a brief statement.  “My daughter-in-law has no comment for you right now.  Please, leave her alone.  She’s been through a terrible ordeal.  This family needs some peace.  Please, respect our privacy.  Thank you.”  Then she closed the door.

I felt badly for her, but at least now the truth would come out and the people responsible would be brought to justice.

The entire news broadcast was devoted to reporting the Hobson incident.  Experts predicted indictments would start being handed down as early as the following week.  A Senate investigation would likely be launched simultaneously.  Nothing more was reported about the identity of the witness. 

I turned off the TV and carried my melted bowl of ice cream into the kitchen.  I heard a rattling noise coming from the back porch and went to investigate.  It was probably that rascally raccoon that had decided to set up camp under the back stairs.  I’d started throwing out scraps of food for him.  He became a small nuisance, rattling the garbage cans at night while I tried to sleep.  I peeked out the window of the back door, but didn’t see
him anywhere.  “He must have heard me coming,” I said to myself as I turned back toward the kitchen. 

That’s when I saw her.  She stood behind the door separating the kitchen from the back porch.  Shocked to see her, I started to speak, but a man grabbed me from behind and put his hand over my mouth.

I recognized Kerstin immediately, but I had no idea who the brute was dragging me through the house.  He shoved me down into a kitchen chair and the two of them tied me to it.  I wondered if it could have been the same man I saw with her in her
kitchen
that night in Geneva.

“What are you doing here, Kerstin?” I demanded.

She looked at me, her eyebrows pushing down closer to the bridge of her nose.  Those were angry eyes.  She probably wondered how I knew who she was.  She had no idea I had spied on her. 

“Oh, I think you know what this is about,” she replied.

“How did you find me?”

“My new friend here, Mr. Khan, has all sorts of resources for finding people,” she responded.  Her smugness turned my stomach.  “Now, where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Robert’s computer.
  Where is it?” she demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I don’t have the computer.  It was worthless, so I gave it away,” I said.

Khan had wandered off into the other room, probably to search for the laptop.  I
’d
left it on the desk in the den. 
It wouldn’t be hard to find.  I could see if from where I sat.

Then he called, “In here.”

She pointed a bony finger at me that translated to, “stay put and shut up
—
or else.”

The two of them argued over who would operate the computer.  Finally, I heard her insist she had watched Robert access the account hundreds of times, and she could get it done much faster.  Khan gave in to her persistent demands and stepped aside.  She fumbled her way to the
VideoService
software and got connected.  The two of them were silent for several minutes.  Then, the silence was broken and her rage flew.

“What have you done with it!” she screamed as she ran back into the kitchen, pointing that finger at me again.

“What have I done with what?” I replied.  My calmness infuriated her.

“Why, you little
—
” She got set to take a swing at me.  I closed my eyes and prepared for the blow.  Khan entered the room just in time to grab her wrist.

“Wait a minute, Kerstin.  Losing control is a sign of poor character.  Never lose control,” he lectured as he pulled her away from me.

“She stole our money and you expect me to stay calm?  Robert was right.  You are an idiot.”

If looks could kill, I’m sure she would have died on the spot.  The two of them obviously shared no affection for each other.  Their only point of commonality was greed for the money in that bank account.

This time, Khan did the finger pointing
—
right in Kerstin’s face.  “Now, you just sit down there and keep your mouth shut, woman!  I’ll take care of this situation.  I don’t want to hear another word out of you.   Understand?”  His cold, dark eyes could have belonged to the devil himself. 

Instantly, Kerstin shut up.  She took tiny steps over to a chair across from me and melted into it.  She laced her fingers together and laid them in her lap under the table.

“Now, Miss Lace.
  Why don’t you tell me how I can collect the money owed to me
—
plus interest
—
from the bank account you’ve apparently confiscated?”

“The money is gone.  I donated it to the UFO Foundation of the Planet Earth.  If you had gotten here yesterday, I could have helped you out.  Like they say, timing is everything.”

“That’s very funny,” he laughed.  Then he produced a gun from inside his jacket.  He pointed the barrel directly at my head.  Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.  The smirk left his dark face.  “I will ask you again, Miss Lace.  This time, you will not mess with me or I will blow your head off.  Understand?”  He pronounced each word very deliberately to assure my comprehension.

Kerstin’s eyes grew wide with fear he would carry out his threat.  “Are you crazy?  You can’t kill her yet
—
not until we get our hands on that money.  She’s the only one who can access it.”

“Shut up!” Khan shouted,
then
turned the gun on her.  “I’m sick of listening to your whining voice.  It’s like
fingernails on a chalkboard.  One more sound out of you, and I’ll put you right out of my misery.”

“So much for maintaining control,” she grumbled.

He took aim, one inch to the left of her left ear, and fired his weapon.  She didn’t say another word.  He returned his aim to my head and asked his question again. 

Before I could speak, we were all startled by the crashing sound of breaking glass.  Suddenly, there were armed men in black uniforms with full helmets and bullet proof attire advancing from all sides.  They shouted for Khan to drop his weapon.  He maintained his aim on me as if it would ensure his safety.  I held my breath, not knowing just how crazy or desperate he might be.

Two men directly behind him stood like statues with their high-powered rifles aimed at his head.  Another marksman kept his post in the hallway leading from the dining area to the back of the house.  One more advanced from the back porch and drew a bead right between Khan’s eyes.  The standoff lasted a full two minutes.  Sweat poured off Khan’s face.  His hand began to tremble and I worried he might fire the weapon accidentally.  Finally, he laid down his gun and gave himself up. 

Then, two familiar faces entered the kitchen
—
agents Cooper and Willis from the FBI.  I felt like a chicken that had just been rescued from the fox by the coyote.

Kerstin and Khan were handcuffed and taken away.  Cooper untied my hands and feet and checked to see if I had sustained any wounds.

“We’ve been chasing you all over the country
—all over Europe
, for that matter.  What the heck did you think you were doing?  Why wouldn’t you let us help you?” Cooper demanded as he slammed the ropes down on the table in front of me.

“Why?  So you could finish me off after you missed me the first time on my boat?”

“What?  Finish you off.  What the heck is that supposed to mean?  You think
we
blew up your boat?”

“What was I supposed to think?  It wasn’t until after I came to you that my boat was destroyed and my friend Jason was almost killed.”

“First of all, we have your friend Jason in protective custody until all the players in this little episode are rounded up and corralled.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Cooper cut me off.  “Secondly, it wasn’t us who blew up your boat or caused your friend’s car accident.  You can thank Carl Hobson for that.  Just between you, me, and the fence post, some very wealthy and powerful people donated unbelievable amounts of money to get our current President into the White House.  Those people would have been destroyed if the news of their involvement in the Mexican drug cartel got out.  Not to mention several major U.S. banking institutions that would likely be crippled if the Mexico-based company couldn’t repay its loans.  We now believe someone in the White House directed Hobson to have Powers and Norris taken care of
—
to protect those people.  We knew the CIA used
Kephart
as an asset in
other operations involving assassinations of third-world military leaders.”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing.  “I thought stuff like this only happens in the movies.” 

Cooper shook his head.  “
Kephart
brought Khan into the picture because of his electronics expertise.  We had been looking for Khan for months before you came to us with that device you found.  We knew he was one of the few people around who could build one.  Every time we’d get close to him or
Kephart
, Hobson would throw a monkey wrench into our investigation.  By the time we confirmed what you had brought to us, you’d flown halfway around the world.  When we tried to bring you in for your own protection, you led us on this crazy wild-goose chase.  I ought to lock you up right now just so we can keep an eye on you until this whole thing is over.”

“Then it was Hobson who killed Joe?” I asked.

“No.  That credit goes to Mr. Khan.  Apparently word got out in the organized crime circle that a friend of Joe’s came across Robert
Kephart’s
trademark weapon.  Evidently, there was a rather large sum of money owed to Khan by
Kephart
.  Khan assumed whoever found the gun probably found the money, too.  When Khan confronted Joe and demanded to know the identity of his friend, Joe refused to tell, so Khan killed him.”

I didn’t feel any better knowing that Joe died trying to protect me.  I’d probably need years of psychotherapy after this was over.